


The Kiss

by fhartz91



Series: Lord of the Manor [15]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/fhartz91
Summary: Kurt wakes later than usual without his husband by his side. Even though he should go about his business and wait until the earl comes back to him, he can't.Blaine has yet to give him his good morning kiss.





	The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another better late than never entry for the Klaine Advent Drabble challenge 2016, which used most of the words (seeing as this is a historical piece, I couldn't use the word video xD)

Rays of silvery sunlight streaming through the windows danced on Kurt’s skin as he finally began to wake. Mornings were of a particular hardship for Kurt, as the cold caused his shoulder to ache ruthlessly (minor twinge, his ass!). Rainy days were far worse, of course. Thankfully, even though winter had started to set in, they had few of those. But Kurt bore his stiffness in silence, as he knew it was nothing compared to the pain in his beloved husband’s leg, and the constant agony it caused him. Kurt considered himself fortunate that he had a strong husband, one who did not choose to dull his pain with liquor as many injured men often do (though Kurt would far from blame him if he did). Blaine indulged in a drink every now and again, but nothing out of the ordinary. No, Blaine Anderson shouldered his pain with the pride and dignity of a paladin, laying his misery bare for his husband when they were alone, seeking comfort for his infirmity solely from the touch of his hands and the heat of his body.

Twas not the sun that pulled Kurt from sleep, nor the rhythmic knocking of a nearby branch against his window. (Sebastian had come by twice to prune the thing, but Kurt bade him not to. The sound of it tapping at the glass soothed Kurt, so Sebastian promised to put it off until stronger winds arrived, for then it would surely threaten the windows and need to be removed.)

No. He had the absence of his husband by his side to blame for his rising.

On many an occasion, it was Kurt who rose first, up with the sun to get Beth out of bed and the house running in his husband’s stead. Why he had managed to oversleep this time, he had not a clue.

Well …

With a smile, he realized he _did_ have a guess.

His husband.

Blaine’s insatiable appetite – his teasing, his kissing, his flattery, his tiring Kurt out with love making just to rouse him moments after for another round in a different position.

Blaine oft joked that Kurt’s youth and energy would be the end of him, to which Kurt countered that Blaine had the stamina of a much younger man, even younger than he.

Last night, Blaine proved Kurt right. The soreness in his limbs, the pleasant burn in his muscles, and the fact that he wore not a stitch of clothes underneath the thick comforter tucked around him, attested to it. And though there was no one around to witness his indecency, his fair skin burned red from his exposure.

The last time Kurt remembered waking up alone was before the two of them confessed their love for one another.

When they were newlywed and yet living like strangers.

Kurt fancied himself that whatever reason his husband had for creeping away so quietly must have been extremely important if it could take him from his naked husband’s side, so he did not let it sour him. But if Kurt had thought it once, he’d thought it a thousand times.

Kurt was spoiled.

He missed his husband. And even though protocol dictated he go about his own business (which he had in abundance) and wait patiently for his husband to return to him, he dressed in his finest day suit and went on the hunt.

Because Blaine had neglected one thing in allowing his husband to oversleep.

He had not given him a kiss.

Not one that Kurt could remember, anyway. Not one that left a mark. As Kurt came to his senses and took inventory of his limbs, he could feel that there were no new love bites left upon his flesh, no sign of a freshly purpling bruise.

He needed to rectify that heinous mistake immediately.

Preparing himself for the day proved to be sheer torture. Even in his rush, certain attentions needed to be paid. To his hair, for one - that each and every strand of it stayed in place. To his clothes, for another. He had to ensure that they were free of stains and wrinkles. Many of his clothes fell victim to the spontaneous whims of his husband, so much so that wrinkles had become the bane of Kurt’s existence.

But happily so.

Then to his shoes, which Marley fastidiously kept polished for him. He washed his face in the basin by his bed, got himself dressed, and fixed his hair with pomade. Once he declared himself fit to join the human race, he ventured out into the manor.

To every servant he encountered he asked, “Have you seen the earl about today?” Many of them had, and directed him thus, but once he reached the location in question, the earl had gone. Kurt visited the usual parts of the property twice, then doubled back to their bedroom with the slim hope that his husband may have decided to rest a spell.

He had not, but Kurt had the good fortune to run into his maid in his stead.

“Oh, Marley!” Kurt greeted her, slightly winded from his journey “Have you seen the earl about today?”

“Yes, milord,” Marley replied. “Twas he who gave me strict orders that you not be disturbed. He commanded me not to enter your chambers under any circumstances,” she added with a knowing, and approving, grin.

“Is he still at home?” Kurt asked, as it had not dawned on him till this moment that the earl may have taken his business in town and not at the manor.

“Yes, milord. He is downstairs in his office. But he …”

“Wonderful!” Kurt said, hearing what he wanted to hear and naught else. “I think I shall go bother him a little!” And he took off, leaving laughter in his wake.

“But, milord! Milord, wait!” Marley tried fruitlessly until her master was out of sight. She did not chase him down, for she knew better than to try and dissuade him. There was no stopping Kurt once he got an idea in his head. Regardless of what happened when he arrived at Blaine’s office, Marley knew she would not be blamed.

She had simply done what her master asked.

She only wished she could be a fly on the wall when it happened.

***

“So, concerning that property on the north quadrant,” Lord Bellemy started, eyeing Blaine’s reaction to the conversation at hand with growing interest. “What do you have planned for it, if you do not mind my asking?”

“Oh, I do not mind,” Blaine said, glancing out the window in the hopes of catching his husband stretching his legs about the grounds, sketching the rose bushes or picnicking with Beth. It would be much more stimulating to watch his handsome husband sit in the grass and stare at the sky than evade questions with regard to the parcel of land that abuts Lord Bellemy’s property. Lord Bellemy has been a dear friend and supporter of the Anderson family. Nonetheless, Blaine was not about to sell, not even to him. “But I have no intention of telling you.”

The other lords in attendance chuckled, Blaine’s jest landing with the right amount of impact as to get his point across, but not be considered tacky … or insulting. But Blaine was in no mood to join them. This meeting had started too early, had already gone on far too long, and frankly, Blaine had a wish for it to be done. But he could not surrender to his foul moods the way he once did, leave the party to their own devices, their individual proprieties dictating when they should leave after they realized Blaine had no plans on returning.

He was not that man any longer.

He was a gentleman. A lord. A respected member of court.

And, for the sake of his husband and child, he had best act like it.

Even though he would like nothing more than to find his husband, drag him to bed, and ravish him the way he had so many times before dawn, he must abstain, get done with this meeting ...

… and then the remainder of the afternoon would be theirs.

“Blaine!” Kurt’s voice rang down the hall like the high tolling bell of the church south of the meadow. “Blaine! My love! Where are you?”

As if his thoughts of Kurt had called him into existence, Blaine heard Kurt hurrying down the hall.

Oh, why had he not discovered this mystical power years before? He would have saved himself so many brandy soaked nights sulking in a whore’s bed.

Blaine knew he should rush to the door and catch his husband before he could continue his yelling, but Blaine was too overwhelmed with joy at the sound of his husband calling out for him so gleefully, so unapologetically.

Besides, he would not miss the look on Kurt’s face as he entered the room for all the gold in the universe.

“Blaine? My darling, are you in? Marley said you would be … oh.” Kurt walked through the door and stuttered to a halt, staring at the men gathered with an expression of shock on his face. “Hello, gentlemen. I … please, forgive me for my rude interruption! And for my behavior! I did not know that my husband was entertaining company.”

“’Tis quite alright, Count Anderson,” Baron de Bourg, one of the few men among them Kurt knew by name, said. “It is so good to make your acquaintance on this fine morning. You are more than welcome to join us.”

“Absolutely,” Blaine said, grinning slyly at his husband. “In fact, I would have extended an invitation myself, only I thought you might appreciate some rest after the _excitement_ of last evening.”

“Th-thank you,” Kurt said, gaze bouncing from the smiling face of Baron de Bourg to the wickedly glittering eyes of his husband, wondering how much the kindly older man could discern of his husband’s meaning by the lowering of his voice and the cunning in his smile. “And I would take you up on that, but my attentions are required on other matters in the house. I only came down here to find my husband because …” Kurt stopped short of admitting the purpose behind his intrusion. Twas the effect Blaine had on his husband, making him forget all else with a single flash of his devilish eyes.

“Because …?” Blaine moved closer, far too amused by the glow rising rapidly to his husband’s cheeks. Blaine knew exactly why Kurt sought him out. The twist in his smile told Kurt as much. But Blaine was not making this easy on him regardless. It might be cruel to put poor Kurt on the spot like this, but Blaine’s husband could more than handle himself when the situation required it.

Plus, Blaine could not resist this opportunity.

“My lord” - Kurt dropped his voice to a whisper – “do you mean me to tell everyone here _why_ I have searched for you so ardently this morning?”

Blaine took his husband’s hands in his and kissed them, laying simple pecks across Kurt’s fingertips that still managed to fill him to the brim with fire. “No, husband. Not at all. I would not ask you to embarrass yourself so.”

“That is … very kind of you, my lord,” Kurt said, mildly wary, for the mischief in his husband’s voice did not match the tenor of his words.

“Worry not, husband. I shall make the appropriate excuses for you.”

“Thank you ever so much, my lord.” Kurt took a step away, ready to pardon himself from the company, only to be stopped by his husband’s hand refusing to relinquish his.

“I apologize, gentlemen,” Blaine said, “but I require a moment of indecency.”

“M-my lord …” Kurt stared at his husband, his blood running cold as a murmur of indecipherable comments and good-natured chuckles circulated the room.

“What in heavens for, Earl Anderson?” Baron de Bourg asked, not quite as innocently as he let on.

Blaine wound an arm around his husband’s waist, stared deep into his eyes, and announced, “I need to kiss my charming husband.”

“Go right ahead, Earl,” the baron obliged. “The company can wait.”

Unanimous agreement erupted from married men and bachelors alike in the form of heels stomping the floor, and Kurt shook his head.

“Is this necessary, my lord?” Kurt laughed, but did nothing to remove himself from his husband’s arms. “I dare say, we shall have an audience.”

“Oh, most definitely, husband,” Blaine said, pulling Kurt closer still. “There is nothing of more import than a kiss from you every day. And I refuse to be deprived of it.” Blaine ran his nose against his husband’s, the next two words lost against his mouth. “May I?”

“You may, my lord,” Kurt said with a bashful giggle that was more beautiful to Blaine’s ears than the finest music in Europe.

The gentle press of his husband’s lips to his own was accompanied by a polite pattering of applause, but once the earl put his hand to his husband’s cheek, the sound of hands and of feet and of voices disappeared, and Kurt and Blaine, for that moment, were completely and utterly alone.


End file.
